School is out forever. This should be the beginning of everything. But it will be the end. He looks down at all the pendejos. Is this what they want? Something unforgettable? He doesn’t care who sees. He’s pushed to the edge. ‘Yo mamma’s so fat they close the freeway so they can tow her,’ they’d laughed. His mom hadn’t worked since the stroke, and the old man, the borracho, was drinking the insurance money. After years being pushed around, kicked in, beat up he knows you have to do something drastic to get attention. He might not be good at much, but he is good at math and science. He knows a 9mm Hydra-Shok hollow round weighs 124 grains, will travel at over 1,010 feet per second, he knows to adjust for the easterly breeze and recoil at approximately 32 yards. He raises the Smith & Wesson. It feels heavy now the moment has arrived. He sees Raul, he hears Raul, he hates Raul. Raul, yo brain’s so small they’re gonna be picking it up in a test tube.
© 2017 The Wasted Love Song
In response to: FFfAW Challenge-Week of July 11, 2017
Image credit: Grant-Sud
Many thanks to Priceless Joy for organising Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.